Strength for Christmas
by KaryInTheSky
Summary: October 1981. Lily already knows what she wants for Christmas this year, but what she wants is the one thing that James can't give her. Written for the reviews lounge project: "All I want for Christmas"


A/N: This was written as a part of the reviews lounge project: All I want for Christmas.

I can't taste summer anymore: the last bit of warm air left a few weeks ago. Instead, a cold breeze caresses my skin now and then. It's soothing, really, but it's the announcement of change. I can feel change coming, in the air, in James, in me. Autumn's here, and it's everywhere. As I gaze out the window of the nursery, contemplating the golden leaves that currently crown the trees, I can only smile weakly as I remember James's earlier question. He really is irrepressible, thinking about Christmas already. I wonder how he can think about Christmas in times like these. Besides, it's still so far away – October is barely beginning.

Truth is that, for me, Christmas is much more than a couple of months away. It's as far away as the last time I can remember sitting beside a Christmas tree worrying about nothing more than the presents that waited to be opened. I can still smell mum's Christmas pudding, I can hear dad singing from the roof as he tried to get the Christmas lights fixed properly, making his best effort to get them to look like the picture on the box. I can remember my _other_ type of Christmas as well: I can feel the warmth of the chimney, hear the cheerful chatting of the people in the common room, smell the butterbeer, and see the dangerous mistletoes hanging in every unexpected corner.

But nothing will ever top last year's Christmas. It was the best of my life. James insisted on decorating every inch of the house – the place looked more like the house of Christmas horror, but he was convinced that Harry would like it. He wanted to encourage Christmas spirit in his first son as early as possible. I couldn't stop him from making a mess of the house; then again, I didn't put up much resistance anyway. Of course it wasn't really necessary, I'm sure Harry would have sensed our spirit without the decorations. We had never been so happy. We innocently forgot about everything that surrounded us, and embraced our first Christmas as a family. It was perfect.

I've always welcomed Christmas, and that spirit was a part of me: but not anymore. Christmas is too far away from me. And now I find myself admiring James's full spirit, his ability to wear a bright smile as he starts to plan our next holiday season. I could swear I saw him in the attic last week, searching for the Christmas decorations.

I suppose James has the privilege of being innocent sometimes. Unlike me, he can forget about the wrongness of the world, the war that surrounds us and even the fact we're being hunted down. He can push that away for a moment, put his arms around my waist, smile, kiss my cheek, and whisper softly to my ear:

"_What do you want for Christmas this year?"_

With a vague smile I point out his silly behavior.

"_James, it's barely October! Christmas is still far away."_

That's all I dared to say.

But I haven't been able to get the question out of my head since then, and now I rest my face against the window frame thinking about what I could possibly want from him that he hasn't given me already. The cold breeze brushes me again, taking a few of my thoughts with it. I think, and think, and think. But my own rambling can only bring me to the same place. I know what I want. But he can't give me that, not James. I suppose that the only thing I want for Christmas this year is the one thing I have to find in myself. Still, I wish I could just be given it. I wish I could take a tiny bit of the amazing strength he carries and keep it for myself. He says I'm the strong one, but I know I'm not. He's the one strong enough to bring us Christmas despite the darkness that's hunting us down. But I know why he does it. That strength he carries is all for us; for Harry; for me.

I wish I could find strength inside a box wrapped with perfect red paper, decorated with a golden bow and addressed just to me. I wish I could find it underneath a perfect Christmas tree, just like I found my first porcelain doll.

But it won't come that way. It won't be wrapped or addressed to me. And yet, that's all I want – that's all I need.

I really do need it. I know I'll need a lot of strength for next year, since I'm running out of it. I need a bit for every morning, to open my eyes, smile and kiss the amazing man sleeping next to me. I need a bit for each night, so I can go to sleep in peace. I need some strength to remind myself that everything is fine; that we are going to be fine; that Harry is going to be fine.

We are protected, and I know I shouldn't be so worried. And yet there's the change, the departure of summer, the arrival of autumn, the leaves that will soon be falling, and the wind that will increase its visit. Yes, it's the wind; it's the change. That's what is taking my strength, what is leaving me defenseless with only my fears to comfort me. And I need my strength now more than ever because change scares me, change warns me that I should be more careful, more awake.

I know that in times like these I need strength to forget about the surroundings and concentrate only in our great share of happiness. I learned that from James.

I know I'll need strength for him, and for Harry.

I close my eyes trying to breathe in everything that I'm finding so threatening, so frightening. I used to love it each time the seasons changed. But now… now it's different.

I open my eyes again, noticing the small, familiar sounds that come from the crib behind me. Harry is awake. I approach him and find him struggling with the blanket. I smile. He, like James, knows how to steal a smile away from me. His little hands are reaching for me, and I can't help but lift him immediately. I'm so weak, weak for James and for Harry. Both of them know how to steal my heart in a second.

And then, as I carry Harry in my arms, feeling his small fist close tightly around my finger, sensing his heartbeat, I notice that he's looking straight into my eyes. As if he knew. And it's only then that I remember where I can always find what I need: it's all there, in his emeralds.

Contrary to what everybody else thinks, I don't see myself reflected in his eyes. I see other things, and I might be able to see what nobody else sees. I know him – I know my son. I know it all from the way he looks at me, from the way he looks at James, even from the way he stares so intently at Sirius. I've never seen a baby with more expressive eyes. I know, maybe it's all inside my head, but it's still amazing.

He's so small, and yet so huge. He's not enticed by fear, he's not threatened by worries. He doesn't put boundaries around himself and he doesn't suppress his thirst for discovery. Yes, I can see all that, I know I can. It's all in his eyes; all the strength I need; all the strength that James has. It's all Harry's, and that soothes me. I know I can find it when I look at him, and I know it will always be there. And that's what will let me welcome change, accept change, maybe even celebrate it again. That's what will let me welcome autumn – cold, steady autumn.

Suddenly, Christmas is not so far away, it's only two months from now. Suddenly I don't feel so lost. Suddenly, I can live through autumn just to get to Christmas again. Suddenly I know the taste of Christmas pudding and the smell of Butterbeer again. Suddenly I can't wait for December to come. After all, it will be Harry's second Christmas. It's bound to be perfect.


End file.
